


let me (give you my life)

by thewalrus_said



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Ass to Cock, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Hair Washing, Human Footstool, M/M, Rimming, Service Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-23 02:30:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20884685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said
Summary: The third time it happens, Yuuri does it on purpose. Stretched out under him, covered in streaks of his own release, he places his hand on Viktor’s wrist where he’s jerking himself off, puts his lips to Viktor’s ear, and purrs, “Thank you, Vitya.”Viktor comes so hard his back bows, dropping his forehead to Yuuri’s shoulder as it pulses through him.





	let me (give you my life)

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little service!Vitya to spice up your day. Thanks to [Rae](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuzuhi) for betaing!

The third time it happens, Yuuri does it on purpose. Stretched out under him, covered in streaks of his own release, he places his hand on Viktor’s wrist where he’s jerking himself off, puts his lips to Viktor’s ear, and purrs, “Thank you, Vitya.”

Viktor comes so hard his back bows, dropping his forehead to Yuuri’s shoulder as it pulses through him.

Yuuri doesn’t say anything after that, just watches Viktor’s face as he recovers, then makes for the bathroom and comes back with a warm, wet cloth. Viktor cleans himself up and then sets to the mess of Yuuri’s torso. “I like to be of use,” Viktor says, finally, when Yuuri’s perfect skin is clean once more. “To be of service.”

Yuuri cocks his head to one side. “I’ve noticed.” Viktor looks at him. “The chapstick thing? And you’re always helping me with my jacket or my shoes. It’s a sexual thing too?”

“Apparently.”

“And you like to be thanked after?”

Viktor shrugs. “It means I’ve done a good job.” He looks up at Yuuri through his lashes; Yuuri looks back like he’s about to pounce on him for the second time that night. “I like to do a good job.”

“Hmm.” Yuuri leans back. “Service and praise.” He gives Viktor his most rare smirk, the one he can only ever seem to muster in the aftermath of a really good orgasm. “I can work with that.”

—

Viktor has been with many partners, and in truth he wouldn’t trade a single experience, not even the bad ones. They taught him something about what he likes, and Viktor treasures those nuggets of information, if not the bruised noses or elbows that so often accompanied them. Some of his previous partners have been quite skilled, and Viktor is grateful for their tutelage. 

None of his past experiences have anything on even his worst times with Yuuri.

Before Yuuri, Viktor had never before felt honored to fuck someone, never felt like it was a privilege beyond measure to turn the finely-honed muscles of his body towards making someone else smile (or cry out, or come so hard they can’t speak for a few minutes afterwards). He’d never before looked down at the fucked-out body of his partner and thought, “I did that,” with a coiling of warmth in his belly that has little to do with arousal. Never wanted to make someone’s life easier, to take as many of their daily burdens upon himself as he can so they can glide through life without any barriers to their happiness. Not until Yuuri, with whom the feeling is nearly overwhelming.

—

At first, Yuuri keeps their experimentation outside of the sexual arena. Viktor already does as much for Yuuri as he can think of - helping him into and out of his jacket in their entryway, offering him a hand over every threshold, passing him spices and utensils when they cook together - so it’s not hard to lean into it, make it more of a  _ thing. _ One night Yuuri unfolds himself from Viktor’s embrace on the couch and says, “I’m going to take a bath.”

Viktor pouts, already missing Yuuri’s warmth. “If you must.”

Yuuri smiles at him. “Give me a few minutes to soak, and then will you come help me wash my hair?”

Viktor blinks at him, and something in his chest unfurls like a cat after a nap. “Of course, my Yuuri.” Yuuri leans in to kiss him and then makes for the bathroom. If he listens closely, Viktor can hear the soft thuds of each piece of clothing hitting the floor.

Yuuri trained hard today, and Viktor knows he loves a long soak after particularly rough days, trained into him from a childhood spent at an onsen. He gives Yuuri ten minutes to luxuriate, and then steps through the doorway after him. “Is now a good time?”

Yuuri’s smile is warm and flushed from the heat of the water. “Now is perfect, thank you.” He ducks his head under the water while Viktor gets himself situated. Their tub was not made with this in mind, but it’s set out from the wall enough that Viktor can wedge himself in and still have room to kneel on a towel. If this is to become a routine, they’ll need to find a stool or something for him to sit on.

Viktor wets his hands and reaches for Yuuri’s shampoo on the edge of the tub, working a dollop into a lather between his hands. “Close your eyes,” he says, and sinks his sudsy hands into the thickness of Yuuri’s hair. He works his fingers through, taking care not to catch a nail on Yuuri’s scalp. He should have clipped them before he started - more lessons for next time. “Is the pressure okay?” he asks after a few minutes.

“You can go a little harder,” Yuuri says. Viktor obeys, letting the pads of his fingers press a little deeper against Yuuri’s skin. Yuuri sighs. “Yes, that’s perfect,” he murmurs. Viktor’s breath catches in his throat.

After a few minutes more, he dips Yuuri back under the water and runs his fingers through Yuuri’s hair to wash the shampoo out. Next, he reaches for his own conditioner, which Yuuri had started using after his move to St. Petersburg. Yuuri leans into the long strokes, tipping his head forward so Viktor can reach the nape of his neck. His shoulders ripple with each movement. Viktor is unable to resist leaning forward and kissing the wing of one shoulder blade before sending him back under the water to rinse.

Yuuri runs his own hands through his hair when he emerges, careful not to let any rivulets escape the edge of the tub. He smiles over his shoulder and tilts his face up, a clear invitation which Viktor accepts. “Thank you, Viktor,” Yuuri says softly against his lips. “That was lovely.” The cat in Viktor’s chest purrs and stretches, and Viktor leaves him to finish his bath with another kiss.

He feels content, sated in a way he’s not used to, and he tugs Makkachin up onto the couch to curl around her and enjoy it. He doesn’t quite doze off, but there’s a softness to the way time passes until he hears the tub start to drain. Yuuri pads out and presses a kiss to Viktor’s forehead. “How do you feel?”

“Mmm. Good.”

He can hear Yuuri’s smile in his next words. “Good. I thought that might be a nice idea. I’m glad you liked it. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Viktor considers for a moment, but there’s really only one thing he wants. “Let me hold you for a little while?”

“Of course.” Yuuri insinuates himself into Viktor’s arms without displacing Makka, a skill he’s come to master since they’ve been together. Viktor tightens one arm around his dog and one around the love of his life, and sighs.

—

Yuuri shuffles his position around for the seventh time in fifteen minutes. “Having trouble getting comfortable?” Viktor asks over the sound of the commercial playing on the television.

“What?”

“You’ve been shifting like mad.”

“Oh.” Yuuri’s nose crinkles in embarrassment. “I didn’t realize. But yes, I suppose so.”

“What’s wrong?”

Yuuri frowns. “I think I want to put my feet up? But I don’t want to put them in your lap, I want my back against the couch back. And we don’t have a coffee table.”

It’s true, they don’t, having opted instead for small tables at each end of the couch. Viktor considers the problem. “I have an idea,” he says, as the commercial changes. He scrambles down onto the floor and scoots a little way from the couch, putting his back to Yuuri. “Rest your feet on me.”

“Are you sure?”

Viktor looks over his shoulder at Yuuri and pats his shoulder. “I’m sure.” He turns back to the television and one foot appears in his periphery, then another.

“Scoot forward a little bit?” Viktor obliges, until Yuuri’s ankles are firmly locked over the top of each shoulder. “Perfect. You’re sure you’re okay like that?”

Viktor twists his head and presses a kiss to the side of Yuuri’s foot. “I’m perfect.”

There is half an hour left in the show, and Viktor sits ramrod straight the entire time, drawing on every yoga class Yakov ever made him attend. Behind him, Yuuri laughs at the television, and every now and again one foot twitches to rub across Viktor’s cheek. Viktor gives up on the show and closes his eyes, giving in to the settled feeling in his tensed core.

As the show’s end theme starts to play, Yuuri tugs Viktor’s shoulder backwards with his ankle. “Come back here.” Viktor obligingly slides until the base of his spine comes into contact with the bottom of the couch. Yuuri plants his feet on either side of Viktor’s hips and his fingers play along Viktor’s shoulders, prodding and kneading until the tensions starts to leech away. “That was perfect,” Yuuri murmurs. “You were just the right height, and you sat so good and still for me. You’re so smart, my Vitya, so clever and quick-thinking.”

Viktor feels his face flush and he tips his head forward. One of Yuuri’s hands leaves his shoulder and pushes into his hair.

—

Above Viktor’s head, he can feel the motion of one of Yuuri’s hands, working furiously over his own cock. But that isn’t Viktor’s job. Viktor’s job is down where he has three fingers pressed as far into Yuuri’s hole as he can get them, his mouth pressed to its stretched-out edge.

Yuuri’s other hand scrabbles along Viktor’s head, catching in his hair and pulling. Viktor hums against Yuuri’s rim and Yuuri lets out an anguished moan. “Viktor,” he pants. “Viktor, I’m so close, you’ve got me so close, Viktor,  _ please.” _

Viktor manages to spear his tongue past the barrier of his fingers and into Yuuri’s hole alongside them, crooking them ever so slightly as he does. Yuuri’s hand tightens sharply in his hair and he can feel Yuuri’s back arch as he comes with a sharp cry.

He hums again and stays where he is until Yuuri tugs more gently at his hair. He extracts his tongue and leans up to rest his cheek against Yuuri’s thigh, fingers still buried deep. Yuuri smiles down at him, sweat-damp hair sticking to his forehead. His stomach and thighs are glistening with come. “That was wonderful, Vitya,” Yuuri says sleepily, stroking his hand through Viktor’s hair. “You were fantastic.”

Viktor hides his smile in the kiss he presses to the thigh under his cheek. “I’m glad,” he says.

“Can you do one more thing for me, my Vitya?”

“Anything.”

“Will you clean me up?”

“Of course,” Viktor says, and starts to pull his fingers from Yuuri’s hole.

Yuuri clenches around him. “No,” he says. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Viktor’s stomach swoops. He looks up to meet Yuuri’s eyes. Yuuri is still smiling softly down at him. “You cleaned well enough for that before?”

“I cleaned well enough for you to put your tongue in me,” Yuuri says. “It should be fine for you to put your mouth on my cock after that. And I’ll use a washcloth after you’ve got the worst of it, just to be safe."

Satisfied, Viktor bends his mouth to Yuuri’s other thigh and licks up a line of come. Yuuri’s familiar taste bursts across his tongue and he moans. Yuuri’s fingers keep playing through the short hairs at the base of his head.

Slowly, Viktor cleans Yuuri’s thighs and stomach with long, gentle licks. There’s a trail of come stretching from the tip of Yuuri’s cock down towards the base. Viktor licks up and then suckles on Yuuri’s head as softly as he can to clean it. Yuuri hisses in a breath. “Sorry,” Viktor whispers.

Yuuri caresses his face. “It’s okay, my Vitya. You’re doing wonderfully.” Viktor tips his face down to sweep up the last traces, then buries his nose in Yuuri’s hair and breathes deep. “All done?” Yuuri asks. Viktor nods. “Perfect, thank you. You did so well, I feel so much cleaner. You can take your fingers out now.” Reluctantly, Viktor pulls his hand free of Yuuri’s hole and stretches his cramped fingers. He rises to make for the bathroom to wash his hands.

Yuuri follows him for a damp washcloth to wash his cock, and then presses his naked body against Viktor’s pajama-clad back as Viktor brushes his teeth. “I love you,” he mumbles into Viktor’s shoulder after Viktor spits and dries his mouth. “I would love you even if you didn’t love taking care of me so much, but you take such good care of me, Vitya. It makes me feel treasured.”

Viktor is still a little beyond words, so he just turns and pulls Yuuri into his arms, kisses him a little desperately. Yuuri returns it, steady and sure. “Come to bed,” he says, once Viktor releases his mouth. “Let me hold you for a little while.”

He steps out of the bathroom and holds his hand out behind him. Viktor takes it and follows.


End file.
